Love by Few, Hate by Many, Respect by All

Prima parte.

I sat there with anticipation,
My hands gripping the wheel,
They knew I was coming,
To make a great steal.
A pistol in my belt,
And my boys around me,
I pushed down my foot,
And smiled with glee;
The engine roared,
The backseat clicked with Tommies.
It would not be long,
Before those bastards prayed for their mommies…
The grill of the car,
Pushed aside much,
A make-shift barricade,
And a few guys got smooshed.
I pulled up to the gate,
And I opened my door,
Me and five men got out,
But they had much more.
Gangsters to the left,
Gangsters to the right,
I could see well,
That it’'d be a great fight.

Seconda parte.

I took cover and loaded
My shotgun with care,
Three of them came
Through the garden with flair.
I gripped the wood stock,
The metal barrel did shine,
Little did they know,
Their lives would soon be mine.
Pulled the trigger once.
Pulled the trigger twice.
The remaining enemies
Scattered like mice.
Several minutes gone by,
Many bodies lay still,
I’m out of fresh shells,
Sadly Big Mike had had his last kill.
He lay there bleeding,
Not a single breath,
I yelled to the heavens,
“Why didn’t you take Seth?”
Seth got all pissed and ditched us,
But I did not care,
Me, Sal, and Petey,
Took a gasp of fresh air.
We stormed through the door,
Killing all things in sight,
I love my dear pistol,
As it slayed with great might.
I made for the basement,
And reached in my coat,
Couldn’t believe it,
I felt like a goat.
“I have forgotten the dynamite.”
Yelling through the door,
I knew tomorrow night,
I’d have to come back for more.

Finale parte.

We exited the compound,
Our sedan ablaze,
I looked for a new one,
A very mere gaze,
I spotted a truck,
Hearty and blue,
A Chevy, no a Ford,
What’s it to you?
At that moment I heard them,
Their siren’s wail,
Here is the escape,
I hope we do not fail.
One cop, two cop…
Three cop, FOUR!
Five cop, six cop…
Seven cop, MORE!
I took a left,
Raced down 11 blocks,
All of these cars,
So we threw down our Glocks;
Picked up more powerful guns,
A left turn, a right turn,
Three blocks to go-
When will they learn…
Four coppers left,
But three hit-squads in tail,
A Molotov present:
Look at them flail!
Down to the last,
Five men and two cars,
All the cops gone,
These chumps will be ours.
Smashed one into a post,
Shot up the other,
Made it to the safe house,
High-fiving each other.